Ultimatum
by rockybluewigs
Summary: What if winning the gymnastics competition had an ultimatum? Certain things are better left undone. KimClare - oneshot; alternate ending to Gabby's Gold


**AN: After watching Gabby's Gold and listening to Bruno Mars, I got the confidence (more like, balls) and the inspiration to write this. It's a replacement to what I actually wanted to write (which is Milton-centric) but I won't be scrapping that one. I just need to get my other awesome ideas out on paper. Plus, there's a lot of foe-yay between these two...so why not!**

Warning: Contains heavy kissing between a girl and a girl. Sorry if it's not up to your expectations, but hey, this fandom needs one slash story in the midst of 100 het stories.

Disclaimer: Oh magic conch shell...will I ever own Kickin' It? (maybe someday.)

* * *

No one understands why I needed to win.

No one at all.

If I win, it meant a lot. But I lost, which means that I would have to be a slave for someone I _purely_ dislike.

Practice, and a team, and making sure I wipe that smug smirk from Clare's face makes perfect. However, I couldn't take it knowing that my stick landing fell short, and then looking at the evil smirk on her face when I looked at her. I felt good doing my best, but now I had to pay the price. She couldn't spare me even if I begged her to at least take a picture with Olympic gold medalist Gabby Douglas, (who actually didn't even want to,) so I guess...take what I deserve.

Cleaning up after the competition, I wipe the chalky substance off my hands. Moisture during the competition can mess everything up, but also can make me feel dirty and it's all over me from the fight after the competition.

When I hear a shower going off, I realize I'm not the only one in here, but all I know is that everyone went home, and my friends are waiting for me at the dojo for a defeat-bration (I didn't come up with the idea, by the way) so after getting dressed, I'll run over there. Dust is the least of my worries as long as I can get out of this dingy locker room.

I heave a sigh in the silence, besides the fact that there's a shower going off around the room, while the mirror in front of me gets blurry and I can barely see anything through the impending fog. I see a flash of reddish-blond hiding in the west side of the lockers, and I turn around, trying to figure out what's going on.

I don't want anything scaring me now, especially when my life is over. I'm now Clare's stupid slave for the rest of the month, and I would rather eat exploding chalk than to deal with a overly-confident, annoying, spoiled-rotten, whiny little bitch like Clare. But life couldn't spare me the end of the lucky streak I received when I actually had an Olympic gold medalist by my side.

Maybe she'll give me easy things to do like dye my hair black or embarrass myself in front of my school...or at least cleaning after her dog. (Hey, that doesn't sound bad.) I doubt it though - she wouldn't let me do what her butlers do for a living, even if she _liked_ me.

I open my locker, and my clothes are missing. I raise an eyebrow, since I remember putting my clothes in my locker before the competition...in this particular one. I locked it and double-checked it before leaving. Yet, everything's missing. I hope this wasn't a prank by some other girl who knew my lock combination (which would be weird, because no one knows my combination except for Grace - we used to share lockers, and she isn't even here) and is looking for some vendetta against me. (Then again, I still have some of the cheerleading girls hating me strongly for getting Erica expelled...for her _own_ mistakes, mind you.)

"Looking for this?" A tickle runs down my spine eerily as I hear the high-pitched, yet smooth voice of the biggest bitch she-devil of Swathmore, flashing an evil smirk towards my way. The strap of my duffel bag hangs dully on her manicured hand, and the bag barely touches the floor.

"Give me my bag. Clare," I demand. I have no time for her mind games, or living up to her side of the bet.

Clare just shakes her head and chuckles darkly, her free hand covering her mouth. "I'm afraid I can't do that, _Kimmy_."

I twitch immediately - I hate that nickname, especially when she says it - I roll my eyes and stomp over to her, trying to grasp my duffel bag from her reach. Unfortunately, she reflexively hides the bag far from my reach. "Uh uh, I'm not going to give you the bag that easily."

"Look, I have to be somewhere in a few minutes," I explain, hoping that there's a heart within that black mass of selfishness and coldheartedness for me to get dressed and get out of here. Being a bit of a germaphobe, I hated being here for longer than needed. "Can we do this tomorrow, when I don't have plans...or in a disgusting locker room?"

"Now, why would I do that, when you're _so_ vulnerable?" she questions, with a uncaring shrug.

Repressing to flip her over (because that would make everything worse,) I heave another sigh. "Come on, Clare. I hate being in here for a long time, and so do _you_. Just let this go for today, and then tomorrow, you can..." Oh, fuck. "You can _have your way with me_."

"No, I think I rather do that now." I barely hint it, but if it's the fog making me temporarily blind, then I wouldn't notice that Clare is now within breathing range. I can faintly smell sweat on her (which is surprising because she's a neat freak) and there's a bit matted on her sideburn hair. Her eyes bore holes into mine, and I'm temporarily frozen in sight, unable to notice her hands touching my sides, her licking her lips, and her Cheshire grin.

Pushing my back against the lockers, I finally unfreeze, but that doesn't stop there. Clare comes closer again, and her lips are immediately on mine.

I squeal in shock and freeze again, unable to comprehend what's happening in front of me. Clare's not my first - mind you, but she's the first girl, indefinitely. Sad to say, I expected it to be a lot more disgusting. A soft bite on my lower lip shakes me from that frozen state again, and almost immediately, I retaliate, with much more force, putting my hands on her shoulders.

(At least, to get it over with.)

The fog makes it harder to breathe, when her kisses are (literally,) knocking the air out of me, yet I'm not in the least bit light-headed...yet. I feel her tongue inside my mouth, invading every corner expertly, like she's done this before (well, that's _not_ surprising...) but as if we're in another competition, I fight back, and move my tongue against hers. The movement seems more erotic than I thought it would ever be, so I couldn't hold back the deep moan eliciting throughout the empty locker room, which is basically drowned out by the shower running again.

Clare pushes my hands away and grabs my bun, literally breaking the ponytail holders and letting my hair break free. She touches it for a while, then grabs it, causing me to gasp sharply, but she swallows it before it could be drowned out.

I grab her hips, and my nails scratch the spandex material of the bodysuit she's wearing. Clare lets out a moan, which is actually (oh my god—_what_?) better than the noise that usually comes out of her mouth. She pulls away slightly, reaching for my neck with wet-sounding kisses, sticking against my slightly sweaty neck. I whimper, slowly biting my lower lip. then she sharply bites my neck, and I gasp in surprise - god, that was sharp! - and hearing a slight giggle, I growl and kiss her again, shutting her up.

I shouldn't enjoy this. No - not when I finally got the guy of my dreams, and I'm at least straight with no trope telling me otherwise. But shit - she's so good at this that I seem to forget about everything. She moans in surprise, but quickly recovers, suddenly moving her tongue against mine.

I can hear my pulse through my ears (or whatever) and I can barely breathe through my nose - is this what it feels like? - and I feel like she has no intention of pulling away anytime soon. Even if I push her away.

However, she pulls away - I whimper slightly, and take in a deep, much-needed breath. Clare stares at me with an unreadable expression - my head starts to pound heavily, like someone is literally drumming my head repeatedly. I take one last breath and stare at her back, but she just drops my duffel bag on my feet.

I raise an eyebrow - "Is that it? I expected more from you, especially when I'm your bitch for the rest of the week,," I challenge her, with a smirk of my own.

"In this dirty locker room? I already feel dirty by touching you," she recoils in disgust, with a snarl. I give her that, at least, but then I give her an offended expression. "Don't be offended. You did say tomorrow, I can have my way with you." She reaches over and wipes my lower lip, then retreats. "This will definitely _not_ be the last time, Kimberly." With a small wink, she walks the other direction, and I stand there, flustered and barely breathing correctly.

God-damnit.

She made me late, too. Oh well...I smile lightly and start taking off my dusty clothing.


End file.
